You see, I was in Transcendental Central, to borrow a term coined by my daughter, Miranda. I was in Concord, Massachusetts, the lovely little tranquil spot outside the bustle of Boston; the place where the Revolutionary War began, where first rang the shot heard round the world. Historians delight in the significance of this important place. Literaries delight in its significance as the birthplace of the Trancendentalist Movement.
I went to Walden Pond. I really did. And it was as peaceful and beautiful and inspiring as Thoreau said it was. I walked the pathway he regularly took from the pond to his little shack. I saw the replica shack that has been built in the spot of the original. I sat on his doorstep, and looked out to see the things he saw.
The real monuments to their greatness don't reside on the shady hill of Sleepy Hollow. They rest on the bookshelves of homes and libraries all over the world. Their lasting impact can be felt as one explores their revolutionary thought. They believed religion can be a personal thing, with spirit touching spirit. They were missing a few critical pieces of truth which their contemporary, Joseph Smith, just a state away in New York, was restoring to the world. I believe they were ready to hear and would have been receptive to the restored Truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and would have welcomed Joseph into their circle too.